


White Picket Fences in Your Future

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, super fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5986462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke didn't expect Bellamy's dog to get hers pregnant. Miller is convinced it's a product of their overly-domestic friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Picket Fences in Your Future

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like domestic Bellarke.

“Hi honey, welcome home,” Bellamy calls as soon as Clarke walks into his apartment.

“Thanks?” She hedges, bending to pet the Golden Lab nosing excitedly at her legs. Roxie has no chill when Clarke first gets back from work, and Bellamy’s German Shepherd, Maximus, is right behind her as usual.

The dogs beelining for her is a much more typical greeting than Bellamy’s; they’ve been friends for a few years and they see each other daily because he watches Roxie while Clarke is at work. Her fantasies about coming home to Bellamy aren’t usually so _Leave it to Beaver_ , so she knows she’s not hallucinating. Which just makes the whole thing more confusing.

“Is there a reason you’re impersonating a fifties housewife?” She asks, the dogs trailing her over to the couch. Max obediently lays down at Bellamy’s feet, but Roxie jumps up next to Clarke even though Bellamy’s official rule is that animals aren’t allowed on the furniture. He makes fun of Clarke for how poorly trained her dog is, but Clarke knows he doesn’t enforce the rules for Roxie like he did for Max in the beginning because he’s a big softie.

“I don’t know, I thought that was an appropriate way to greet someone I’m having grandpuppies with.”

Clarke looks down at Roxie’s head in her lap, then back up at Bellamy.

“What.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, closing his laptop and setting it on the shelf to charge. “I got a little suspicious so I took her to see my brother-in-law. He confirmed it.”

“How did this happen?” Clarke asks, scratching Roxie’s neck to make her turn on her back so Clarke can inspect her belly for herself. She looks like she’s gained a little weight, but nothing that would have immediately registered on Clarke’s radar.

“Well, Clarke, when a girl dog and a boy dog love each other very much–”

“I don’t need the birds and the bees talk, Bellamy. I’m trying to figure out how two dogs who were supposedly fixed managed to make puppies.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down at his dog. “Max isn’t fixed.”

“Why not?” Clarke asks, her voice rising a little hysterically.

“Part of Octavia’s deal with me getting to keep him was that he’d breed puppies for search and rescue training. I’m sorry, I thought Roxie– I didn’t think it would be a problem. I should have mentioned.”

“No, it’s okay,” Clarke sighs. “It’s not your fault. If I’m mad at anyone, it’s at the friend of my mom’s who told me Roxie was spayed almost two years before I adopted her.” She scratches Roxie right under her chin, just like she likes, and smiles when her dog’s tongue lolls out of her mouth in utter bliss. “Is she doing okay? Is she healthy? Did Lincoln say?”

“Yeah, he said she’ll most likely be fine,” Bellamy says, lowering himself to the floor and tossing a ball that Max immediately jumps up to chase. “He said we can expect six to nine puppies in a little over a month’s time.”

“What are we going to do with so many?”

“I bet we can find them good homes,” Bellamy says easily. “O might take a couple. If that’s not an option, we can probably convince our friends to take some.”

“Wells won’t. He’s allergic.”

“Raven might, though. And Jasper has been feeling pretty lonely since Maya moved out. Miller would be a tough sell, but if Monty wants one he won’t say no.”

“That’s half the litter,” Clarke says, feeling some of her panic subside.

Max comes trotting back in with a different ball than the one Bellamy threw, but Bellamy tosses it for him anyway. If Clarke wasn’t so preoccupied, she’d probably be very distracted by the flex of his arms under his t-shirt. She likes seeing him at the end of his day like this, glasses sitting a little crooked on his nose, hair unruly from running his fingers through it repeatedly. Add in some dog cuteness and she’s basically a goner.

Roxie hears the commotion and looks over but doesn’t move off of Clarke. That, more than anything, is what convinces Clarke that her dog really isn’t feeling her best.

“I could keep one,” Bellamy says softly.

“Really?”

Bellamy writes from the comfort of his couch, which works out great for both of them: Clarke gets to leave her dog in good hands, and the money she pays him to watch Roxie increases his ability to afford self-employment. It hadn’t been a big determining factor in Clarke choosing an apartment around the corner from Bellamy’s unit– they’d been close throughout college and when she’d needed somewhere pet-friendly, he’d suggested checking out his complex– but it was one of the best perks of living so near to her best friend.

The arrangement also means, however, that the only reprieve he gets from Max is when Clarke takes the dogs on their evening walk. Even when she brings them to the park on Sunday afternoons, she makes Bellamy come along by arguing that he needs the fresh air. She’s surprised that he’d want to take on a third, and a puppy, at that.

“Yeah, I spent the afternoon not being productive because I was googling pictures of Shepherd/Lab mixes. They’re not even here yet and I’m already obsessed.”

“You’re such a sap,” Clarke teases him, fond. “A total sucker for those faces. I bet Octavia got away with tons of stuff when she was growing up.”

“Nah, I had my hardass teenage reputation to think about,” he says, frowning when Max brings the ball to Clarke instead of him. “Traitor.”

“He clearly has good taste,” Clarke says, sending Max running again. Roxie noses at her hand, a nudging reminder that Clarke was doing something before Max so rudely interrupted. Clarke obliges, petting her silky-soft ears. “If you take a puppy, I can figure out another arrangement for Roxie during the day. At least while you’re getting it trained. I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Bellamy doesn’t respond right away and when Clarke looks over at him, he’s watching Roxie with a measured expression. It’s one of his few faces she doesn’t know. When she catches his eye he gives her half a smile and says, “Don’t make any arrangements just yet.”

Over the next month, Bellamy’s contagious excitement starts to rub off on Clarke. He forwards article after article on how to properly care for a pregnant dog, texts her updates when he starts to see the puppies move, even sends her pictures of the dogs when she’s at work. She saves them all and starts working on finding a home for them among her coworkers and friends.

“You two are ridiculous,” Miller says without preamble. She’d called Monty, but Miller had apparently caught wind of the puppy-giving scheme and picked up his boyfriend’s phone.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Clarke says, all innocence, prodding the grilled cheese sandwiches in the pan impatiently. Bellamy doesn’t, as a general rule, keep much on hand to cook with in his apartment. He usually runs to the grocery store the afternoon before if he gets the urge to cook, but he’s on deadline and has been dealing with her pregnant dog all day, so Clarke decided to whip up whatever she could manage from his meager offerings.

“This whole puppy business really heightens the wholesome family charade you two have going on. I’m serious, you’re kicking it up, like, six notches.”

“I don’t get how this works,” Clarke says, digging out a couple of yogurts hidden in the back of one of the drawers in Bellamy’s refrigerator. “Do you really think he got his dog to seduce mine as part of some complex long con?”

“Next stop, white picket fence.”

“If this is part of a secret master plan, what’s his endgame? I’m really having trouble following your train of thought. Maybe you’re getting paranoid in your old age.”

“I’m going to say this once, so listen good: I don’t want to adopt one of your weird, out-of-wedlock puppies. They're expensive and a lot of work. I can enjoy the cuteness of Jasper's or Raven's without actually having to adopt one myself.”

“The puppies themselves aren’t weird,” Clarke says, turning off the burner and carrying dinner into the living room where Bellamy has one dog at his feet and the other across his lap, computer balanced precariously on her back as she sleeps. “They’re going to be adorable. And we’d owe you big.”

“I want your firstborn named after me.” Clarke snorts, which causes Max and Bellamy both to look over at her.

“Miller is an awful name for a dog.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t talking about the dogs. Listen, let me– _me_ , not you– talk to Monty about getting a puppy, and we’ll get back to you guys. Okay?”

“I reserve the right to text him a bunch of really cute puppy pictures.”

“With any luck, that will annoy him and/or satisfy his dog-related needs.”

When Clarke hangs up the phone, Bellamy’s attention is back on the Word document in front of him.

“Did Miller cave?” He asks. Max whines at the sound of Bellamy’s voice and Clarke crosses the room to prop the door to the front yard open. With as much time as she’s spent with Bellamy recently, she can read Max pretty well by now.

“I give them another week,” she tells Bellamy, snagging Max’s leash as he herds her outside. “Okay, okay, buddy. I’m going.”

By the time Max does his business, Bellamy has put in _Homeward Bound,_ which he’s appalled that Clarke has never seen, and has the menu screen cued up.

Bellamy’s armchair doesn’t face the television and Roxie is taking up far more than her fair share of the couch, so Clarke ends up trying to squeeze onto the same cushion Bellamy is occupying. Her arm ends up pressed uncomfortably against his, and as the title screens roll, he makes a noise like he’s giving up and lifts his arm to rest it along the back of the couch. She snuggles into his side and makes a mental note to give Roxie an extra treat when they get home for being such a great wingwoman.

She doesn’t mean to fall asleep. Under normal circumstances, she’d be really into the movie, but Bellamy is comfortable and warm and when she feels herself start to drift off she doesn’t make much of an effort to stay awake.

Around three a.m. she wakes up because Roxie is half on top of her and Clarke can’t breathe. It’s less than ideal, and Clarke is out of other ideas, so she staggers into Bellamy’s room. He’s on his stomach with the blankets clenched in one hand and she has to climb over him so she can nestle into the space between him and the wall.

“Clarke?” He asks, groggy.

“Go back to sleep,” she mumbles, pulling some of the covers her way. He releases his hold on them, only to throw his arm across her stomach instead. If she were more awake, she’d either be excited or anxious about the proximity, the heavy comfort of his hand on her side, the way she can feel his breath on her neck, how natural it all is, but she tables those things for the morning and lets her mind stop working so hard.

The next time she awakens, it’s because Bellamy dislodges himself from where he’s curled around her so he can get up and take the dogs out. The sun is up, but Clarke knows she wouldn’t usually be, at this hour. She can’t summon the energy to move, but her mind is racing and she wonders if she should get up to decrease the awkward factor.

In the end, the blankets are warm and soft and she’s kind of ready for things to come to a head between them anyway, so she lets herself stay where she is. He pads back in before long and shucks his jeans again before climbing cautiously under the covers.

To her immense delight, his arm encircles her gently. It gives her the confidence boost she needs to turn over and face him, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“Hey,” he breathes, smoothing her hair away from her face.

“Morning.”

“So I was thinking about the puppies–”

“Of course you were,” she laughs, dropping her forehead to his sternum.

“No, hear me out. I was thinking about how much work they’re going to be–”

“Do you want me to find someone else to take Roxie? I can. I feel bad–”

“No, no,” he says in a rush. “I like how much I’ve been getting to see you and Roxie over the past few weeks, and I was hoping maybe I could see more of you.”

She squints up at him through her lashes. He’s got that measured expression on again, as if he’s trying not to let his face speak for him.

“So let me get this straight,” she says, punctuating her words by tapping her fingers where they’re resting on his chest. “You want to spend more time together because you and Roxie have gotten so close?”

“And because the puppies will be a handful.”

“That’s what you’re going with?” She teases, but she can’t keep a straight expression.

“I want you around all the time,” he says, returning her smile. Just seeing it on his face makes something light up in her chest. “These are just the excuses I came up with.”

“You don’t need excuses,” she admits. “If you kiss me right now, you basically won’t be able to get rid of me from here on out.”

Almost before she finishes her sentence, he’s rolled on top of her and started peppering her face with kisses. They land on her forehead, her eyelids, her chin, and she even manages to catch a couple on her lips before her laughter summons Max to investigate.

“That’s it, I’m never leaving,” she says, reaching a hand out to pat Max’s snout reassuringly.

“Good. You’d better not.”

* * *

Before Clarke knows it, she and Bellamy have seven of the most precious puppies she’s ever seen.

Octavia spends a lot of time picking out the two she deems best for the police department, though Clarke is pretty sure it’s mostly a ploy to get more playtime. Jasper and Raven each take one, and even Murphy shows up out of nowhere to claim a puppy for his own. Clarke isn’t totally sure about letting him have one at first, but she overhears him speaking to it in what she assumes is his baby talk voice, and she’s sold.

Miller and Monty agree to come check the puppies out, but make no promises about taking one.

“He doesn’t cave,” Monty apologizes, shrugging. “The chances of us taking home one of these puppies is about as low as Raven passing on an opportunity to rant about GamerGate.”

“About as low as Octavia letting Bellamy convince her to take a safer job,” Miller chimes in.

“As low as Murphy ever telling us why we had to bail him out of jail that one time,” Monty laughs.

“As low as the chance of you going over to Blake right now and telling him you’re in love with him,” Miller says, smug.

Clarke bites her lip to keep from smiling, and hopes she passes it off as worried. They haven’t told anyone yet because they haven’t really had a chance. All her time she’s not at work, she’s spent in Bellamy’s apartment, and she thinks things are going extremely well.

“If I do, will you take a puppy?”

Miller considers her, and Clarke truly wonders what she would have done in this moment if she and Bellamy weren’t already together.

“Deal,” he says finally. Clarke hands the puppy in her lap to Monty, stands, and crosses the room to where Bellamy is talking to Lincoln.

“Can I have a word?” She asks, tilting her head toward the kitchen. Lincoln drifts over to where his wife and Raven are trying to name the puppies after comic book characters.

“What’s up?” Bellamy asks, following her just around the corner.

“Miller said if I confess my love to you, he’ll take a puppy.”

“I didn’t know he was so invested in our relationship.”

“He’s probably banking on me chickening out,” Clarke says, catching his fingers with hers. “But I’m in love with you and if you don’t already know that, you ought to.”

He stares down at her in awe for a heartbeat, and then he kisses her with enough force to pin her back against the refrigerator. It’s long and deep and she wants to stay there forever except that almost every one of her friends is standing just a few feet away.

“I love you too,” he says against her jaw.

"I kind of got that," she grins. "But thanks for saying it."

Miller is grudging when Monty shows him which puppy he’s chosen for them to take home in a few weeks, but even after Bellamy and Clarke fess up to the true story, he still takes credit for their relationship for years to come.


End file.
